


wonderstruck

by loveandliquor



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, minchan rise, side seunglix if you squint, squint hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandliquor/pseuds/loveandliquor
Summary: The new year may have started out a little uneventful for Minho’s taste, but he ended a different holiday with a Bang.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	wonderstruck

**Author's Note:**

> based on taylor swift's enchanted.
> 
> first minchan! first oneshot! there are a lot of things to be commemorated here. thanks for reading!

For the record, Lee Minho was never one for parties. But when his best friend practically begged to accompany him to this New Year’s eve celebration, who was he to say no to those puppy dog eyes? Though he was unconvinced that the drying streaks on Seungmin’s face were actually tears and not his contact lens solution, he agreed to dress nice and be on his best behavior. The things he does for this boy.

Seungmin hated when food went to waste so both of them were stuck with the leftover chicken from last night for dinner. Minho brought home a container of convenience store salad and had been busy picking it apart with his chopsticks when Seungmin suspiciously asked him if he was free this coming Saturday.

“By ‘free’ you mean no more paperwork to bring home? I think so,” Minho had answered lightly as he tore a piece of lettuce, his elbow almost knocking over a mug.

Whoever had the most work to do gets the dining table and tonight, it was Minho. He had his laptop perched precariously on the stack of papers shoved haphazardly to the other side to make way for his dinner. Their cramped space made little room for side-by-side dining and they each had to find their own surface to eat in peace. The floor was out of the question since Minho’s cats would surely take anything edible placed on it as an invitation for seconds.

Seungmin had to eat on the kitchen island, his ass barely resting on the tiny barstool. “Do you think you could come with me to this, uh, year-end party? My boss invited me and told me I could bring a plus one,” he said in between bites of the last piece of chicken on his paper plate, shooting Minho a hopeful glance from across the room.

“Why do you need to be there anyway? Last time I checked, you were never a fan of company gatherings,” Minho pointed out, wrapping a piece of chicken with a whole lettuce leaf and shoving it in his mouth.

Seungmin had already finished eating and was cleaning up the space on the kitchen island where he consumed his food. “Yeah, but he personally asked if I was going and I said I was,” he repeated, trying to hide the exasperation in his voice. Minho hoped it wasn’t directed at him; he was also tired as it is. Seungmin walked to the television and plopped on the battered couch in front of it.

“Ah. What’s the event for?” Minho tilted his head to get a better look at the other boy. And to check if he was going to watch the series they agreed to put off until the end of the month.

“Well, it’s just a small get together with some other employees to celebrate the year’s achievements,” Seungmin replied without looking away from browsing through his Netflix suggestions for another shitty romcom.

“I think I’ll pass. I don’t exactly know anyone else there, Min.”

“Please, love. I just really, really need to be there,” Seungmin finally turned to Minho, his pleading eyes moist. Or it could just be the light. Minho prayed it was because he hates seeing Seungmin cry, regardless of the circumstances. Most of all, he hated how soft and pliant he becomes when his best friend gets vulnerable.

“Oh, God. You know what—okay! Just stop. Stop looking at me like that, Kim Seungmin! You are not doing this in front of me!” Minho cried. Seungmin blinked his eyes a few times and the tears that he willed to fall retracted immediately. Minho scoffed; he should’ve known his best friend’s tear ducts were as fake as him.

He walked to where Seungmin was seated and swatted his arm, _hard._ Seungmin retaliated with a slap on Minho’s thigh. This resulted in a wrestling match until they were both too tired from laughing, bodies aching from falling on the floor too many times. They collapsed back on the couch, arranging their limbs to fit into the narrow space as they finished New York Minute, Minho’s leftovers long forgotten.

“And for God’s sake, please try not to leave through the back door again!” Seungmin had hissed as a last-minute reminder as they walked up the last couple of steps to the entrance. Minho rolled his eyes. “Would you ever let that go?” he asked, but the glare Seungmin shot him as they reached the foyer made it clear that he wouldn’t forget about that incident anytime soon.

They were greeted by a blond man in a black blazer with a thick, velvet choker to match. “Min! I’m so glad you’re here!” he said in one breath, like he was holding it in for far too long. The shy smile on Seungmin’s increasingly pink face gave away the real reason his best friend had been so insistent on attending the event.

Seungmin gave the man a tentative wave. “Hey! This is my best friend, Lee Minho, assistant editor of The Star,” he said, slinging an arm on Minho’s shoulders. _Damn Kim Seungmin and his height._ Minho grinned, hoping that he didn’t look like he was baring his teeth at the poor man. He doesn’t exactly smile a lot, but his expression seemed good enough for Seungmin who tilted his head to the direction of the man, “Minho, this is Lee Felix, one of the administrators of the human resource department.”

“A pleasure,” Felix said as his eyes disappeared into tiny crescents, warmth radiating from his face. Minho initially thought he had put on too much glitter, but up close he realized that those were freckles dotting the man’s cheeks. A couple of servers passed by holding trays of champagne and prosecco. The three men were each handed a glass.

“Where’s the big boss?” Seungmin inquired after taking a sip.

Felix grinned. “In one of the rooms, getting ready for his speech with,” he scoffed jokingly, “bourbon on the rocks.” Seungmin giggled at the inside joke and Minho resisted the urge to make a face at how painfully obvious Seungmin’s crush on the guy was. However, Felix burst into his own rich laughter, gaze trained on Seungmin, and it dawned on Minho that the feeling was reciprocated. _Guess Seungmin already got his plot twist before the year ended,_ Minho thought as he swirled the contents of his wine glass.

“Minho, do you mind if I steal Seungmin from you from a while?” a deep voice asked at the far end of Minho’s thoughts. He only gave a questioning hum, caught off-guard to even manage a coherent response. “We—uh, need to make our presence known to our superiors,” Seungmin explained. Minho nodded his head slowly, understanding the implications of his best friend’s words.

“We’ll be back soon, yeah?” Felix assured him. Minho figured they won’t be, so he shook his head dismissively. “Have fun, lovebirds!” he intoned with a knowing smirk. Seungmin reddened in the dim light and Felix was left with his mouth agape as Minho slinked away to find someplace that had less people than the previous room he was in.

How the hell Kim Seungmin managed to drag him here with not so much of a protest and then proceed to leave him alone was still a mystery to Minho.

Seungmin told him to have fun, but that word had long changed its meaning in Lee Minho’s vocabulary. For his best friend, fun was getting _samgyeopsal_ for dinner with a few close workmates after a long day at work. Or going to karaoke rooms and bars until the happy hour lasts, arriving home hammered with little to no recollection of the bad decisions that had been made the previous night.

But for Minho, fun meant having a whole day off to play with his cats, using his free time to hone his baking skills, or just lounging with one of the books on his growing to-read stack. Fun for Lee Minho was being left alone in the quiet, which is why Minho found himself a few minutes later sitting on a loveseat at the far end of the big hall, away from the people and chatter that he would never keep up with at all.

Minho had heard the muffled sounds of someone addressing the audience of the main hall and supposed that that was the “big boss” Seungmin was referring to. “Just a small get together, my ass,” he muttered to himself, promising to deck Kim Seungmin in the face when they get home. He knew it would take a while before the event would end so he scrolled through social media while he waited. After a few minutes of reading Reddit posts and writer struggle tweets, he put his phone down to rest his eyes.

A woman in a tight, extremely revealing dress approached him and tried to make small talk. “I haven’t seen you around,” she purred, wrapping her hands around Minho’s arm and clinging tight. “I’m not from the company,” he replied dryly, “I came here with a friend.” The lady hummed, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She leaned in, exposing more of her bare skin. “Since your friend isn’t here yet, let me have you to myself for a little bit.”

Minho, with nothing else better to do, allowed her to drag him to the table where her friends were. After a few minutes of talking to the woman, whose name he learns is Delaney, and her group of boisterous production assistants, his mind drifted to a peaceful, more secluded space.

Minho was unaware that he had been staring blankly at a dimly lit buffet table on the other side of the room until something shifted in his field of vision. It started out as a shadow, a movement at the edge of the table where any of the pin lights couldn’t reach. Gradually, the silhouette’s features turned sharper as it began to close the distance between them. What was once a hazy figure now stood before him, a beautiful man in all his glory.

Minho’s breath hitched as he smelled the man’s perfume—strong, not too overpowering, but enough for Minho to wish he could stay close to him the whole night. He was in no way blessed with the height, as Minho was taller than him by a few centimeters, but that didn’t affect how commanding the stranger’s presence was. The man held a regal stance that demanded attention. Minho was intrigued by how he was unaware of the effect he had on other people, so he stared.

Well, to be more accurate, Minho _checked him out._ But he could hardly make out any prominent features in the low light, save for the two indents on either side of the man’s mouth as he flashed him brief smile. “Hi,” was all that Minho could say. “Hi yourself,” the man chuckled softly. He craned his neck to look at the people Minho had left crowding around the single bar table that held their drinks, phones, and tiny purses.

“Do you think they’ll notice if I steal you from right under their noses?” the man mused in a whisper, his breath ghosting on Minho’s cheek and making him shudder at the sudden heat on his skin. His voice somehow reminded Minho of melting chocolate—rich, sweet, and thick. But how the person had gotten near him—and when—he had no idea. “No, they wouldn’t,” Minho whispered back a little too quickly.

Minho cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. “I’m Minho,” he said to no one in particular, like he was stating a fact and not making introductions. “Chan,” the man supplied, to Minho’s relief, as he thought he wasn’t going to return the gesture.

“So,” Chan began, “how’s the party going for you?”

Minho shrugged and tugged on one of the silver hoops dangling from his ear. “I’m just gatecrashing for the alcohol. What about you?”

“To be honest, I’m not a fan of the whole thing. I just attended to humor someone… and maybe myself as well.”

There was a celebration for the new vice president. It was Chan.

The corner of the other man’s lips turned up and Minho found himself mirroring the expression. His comment sparked a conversation between them with topics ranging from what kind of alcohol they drank, to their thoughts on the party food, their work ethic, and the shit that goes down in their offices. Strangely, they never came across asking each other what they did for a living. Chan never moved towards the subject so Minho didn’t bring it up either.

“…Then I told my boss I wasn’t doing it. ‘That’s not part of my job description,’ I said.”

“You’re so cool,” Chan stared at Minho with wide eyes.

Minho elbowed him playfully, “I know.”

He could feel Chan smiling beside him so he angled his body to face the man at the same time the other spoke up: “Would you like to get out of here?”

Lee Minho had always had his guard up. However, there was something about Chan that seemed so genuine and sincere that it felt wrong to even doubt his intentions. Needless to say, Lee Minho said yes. He’d have to tell Seungmin all about it tomorrow: enough time for him to get ready to eat his own words.

Chan took his hand and rested it on the crook of his arm. The hall was still dim, strobe lights offering but the slightest illumination which were of no help to Minho, who was trying to make out the features of the other man’s face. Ultimately, he sighed in resignation as he let himself be gently pulled through the throngs of sweaty, heavily perfumed bodies gyrating to the loud music in long gowns and formal suits.

_So much for sophistication,_ Minho thought as they waded through the sea of people. What was supposed to be a ballroom had become a sleazy dance floor; the crowd as bad as the ones from the shitty nightclubs Minho passes by on the way home from work.

Minho wondered where Chan was taking him. He hoped that wherever it is, it was some place good. Not that he was expecting any bedroom action tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he did it, but the experience was so godawful it was etched into his memory and filed under the category of “Things That Make Me Unhorny.”

“Minho? You still with me?” Minho felt a slight tug on his forearm and came face to face with piercing brown eyes and thick eyebrows furrowed in worry. He felt Chan’s grip on him loosen when he didn’t respond. Chan voice was soft and soothing. “Hey,” Chan tilted Minho’s head upwards with his forefinger, “You don’t have to come with me if you’re not sure.”

Minho wanted to kiss him then and there. But instead, he sighed and pushed all the inappropriate thoughts he had of Chan away. “I’m sure,” he smiled. Chan’s eyes disappeared into slits, dimples resurfacing on his smooth face as he grinned at Minho. “Alright, let’s go!” Chan said before they dove headfirst into the crowd.

“Uh, Chan?” Minho half-shouted in the man’s ear. Considering the music was already bass boosted times five, he thought it wasn’t possible to destroy Chan’s eardrum even more.

“Yeah?” Chan shouted back.

“Where exactly are we going?” Minho’s throat was beginning to itch from straining his voice a little more than what he was used to.

“Are you hungry?” Chan’s words were drowned out by the beat drop and Minho almost tripped on a shoe from trying to lean in closer.

“What?” Minho almost screamed. This was getting too tiring. Not to mention how bad it is for their vocal chords. Frustrated, he put his hands on Chan’s shoulders and pushed him towards the nearest buffet table.

“What were you saying?” Minho asked when they finally moved away from the immediate vicinity of the surround sound speakers, thankful that the song was fading to the end.

“You hungry?” Chan had on that dimpled smile again and Minho swears his heart was in pieces, falling like confetti. _Compose yourself, Minho, please._

“Kind of. I only had the hors d’oeuvres here,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could.

“Have you eaten at McDonald’s?”

“Excuse me, _what?_ ” Minho couldn’t believe his ears. But Chan was looking at him wide-eyed expecting an answer. _Well, of course he has!_ Big ol’ Mickey D’s was Minho and Seungmin’s savior when they were struggling to find a job. Sure, it was the home of overcooked meals and unhealthy food choices, however, it was also cheap—and both of them were broke fresh graduates. But Minho isn’t going to tell Chan about that.

Or is he?

“Yeah, it was practically the only reason I survived here,” he confided. “It was all I could afford.” _Great job oversharing, Lee Minho. A perfect first impression._

“I guess great things really come from humble beginnings,” Chan murmurs, to which Minho laughed, partly from amusement and partly from the absurdity of the man’s statement.

Chan grinned sheepishly, “Sorry. It sounded nicer in my head. You aren’t offended, are you?”

“Not at all!” Minho exclaimed in between giggles. “You’re cute, you know that?” he looked over to Chan who ducked his head shyly.

“Thanks? Please don’t say that, I have no idea how to respond,” he said, which sent Minho into another fit of laughter. The man giggled and _god, how beautiful it was_. Minho could barely see the way Chan’s eyes twinkled before they were back into slits of black, leaving him to admire only the shimmer of his makeup. But he did notice how Chan’s plump lips stretched out into a wide grin and how he shyly covered his mouth when he laughed along with him. _Oh no. This shouldn’t be happening._

Before Minho could even imprint the image of the man’s face in his head, he jostled Chan back into the dancefloor, telling him to walk out of there. To cover up the budding warmth in his chest, Minho started shoving arms away, knocking a couple of women’s heads together in the process.

In his defense, they were too close to each other that it seemed like their bodies were coalescing. Oh, they were also making out. Wow. Minho almost wished he were doing the same but instead shook his head vigorously to rid it of the idea. He had no time for dirty dancing—nor intrusive dirty thoughts. They were starting to evolve into something softer and Minho wasn’t having any of that. Not tonight. And most especially not with someone he knew he wouldn’t see again.

A few meters away from the hall’s large doors, Minho felt a steady vibration in the pocket of his trousers. He wriggled out of Chan’s grasp to check his phone and found that Seungmin was calling. In the short span of time he had paused, he already felt himself being swallowed by the blackhole of bodies once again and tried his best to inch his way to the corner of the room. When he was at a safe distance from the crowd, he answered the call.

The second Minho brought his phone to his ear, he heard a shaky breath on the other end. “Seungminnie? Are you okay?”

“Min,” Seungmin gasped, “where are you?”

“I’m just by the foyer. Where are _you?_ ”

“I—I’m coming. Take me home, please.”

“Alright, love. I’ll wait for you here. You can exhale now,” Minho assured him before the line went dead. He leaned against the wall and stretched his back. The exhaustion from wading and squeezing through entangled limbs and damp skin was slowly creeping in. _But wasn’t he holding onto a hand as well?_

“Shit. I lost Chan.”

In the distance, thunderous crackles could be heard from the fireworks display that signaled the start of new beginnings.

There was no use looking for him anyway. The partygoers spilled out of the halls and into the corridors, blocking doorways and scattering throughout the whole event place. No one could pass by the same person twice. With a defeated sigh and a final stretch of his back, he walked out of the big double doors. It took Minho a good couple of minutes to get to the foyer, which was only a few meters away from where he was cornered at the main hall.

Seungmin appeared after a while, visibly shaken and flustered. He ran to Minho and buried his face in his neck while Minho drew soothing circles on his back. A few moments later, Seungmin gave a dry sob and lifted his head. “Hey, love,” Minho said, his voice low. Seungmin just nuzzled his head on Minho’s shoulder in response. If not for the circumstances they were in, Minho would laugh at how much of his cats’ mannerisms had rubbed off on his best friend already.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Minho asked in the most calming voice he could muster.

A pause. “Can we, um, do this at home?” Seungmin hesitated.

“Of course.”

They ended up sitting on the side of the road, waiting for a cab to pass by. Seungmin’s phone kept buzzing between his and Minho’s thighs until Seungmin took it out to turn off its ringer. Minho only watched him flick the switch on its side and made no comment as he pushed it deeper into his pocket. He knew Seungmin would tell him about it when he was ready. For now, all he needed was Minho’s silent comfort and assurance.

Minho was about to ask Seungmin if he was okay with walking to the next bus stop when a sleek black sedan stopped in front of them. All Minho saw on the car’s polished door was a reflection of his face all scrunched up in annoyance, glaring back at him. A heavily tinted window rolled down and Minho tried to turn away in disinterest, if not for the voice that came from inside.

“Minho?”

“Chan?” Minho almost lost his balance when he stood abruptly to peek through the open window. _Chan._ He was here. Right now. In front of him—looking at him with the same amount of concern as when they were being roughly shoved by the horde of partygoers. Chan, with a smile on his face that had Minho’s skin burning up and his insides freezing, a smile that faltered a little as his eyes fell on Seungmin in Minho’s arms.

But Chan, the saint he was, let the dismal scene pass without asking any more questions and stuck his head out to say, “Get in, I’ll take you home.” Lee Minho, despite his pride, didn’t have to be told twice. He gently pulled Seungmin to his feet and opened the backseat door to let his friend in, climbing up beside him when Seungmin had already settled on the cold leather seat. “Thank you, Chan,” Minho said quietly. Chan only nodded in response, the smile never leaving his face, yet not quite reaching his eyes anymore.

Seungmin fell asleep on his shoulder after a while, as Minho resumed rubbing circles on his back. The whole car ride was uneventful, save for when Minho caught Chan looking at them—him?—through the rear-view mirror once and he let out a weird noise at the back of his throat, but other than that, everything and everyone was in complete silence.

Minho tried to sneak glances at the rear-view mirror again, hoping to find Chan’s eyes staring back at him, however the man never so much as blinked, his gaze trained on the road before him. He could only hope that Chan didn’t get the wrong idea.

“Just past that 7-Eleven—”

“Here?”

“No, the next building—right… here. Yes, this is us.”

Chan parked the car right in front of the door to their apartment building and stepped out to assist Minho, who had been trying to shove Seungmin out of the vehicle while cursing how much of a heavy sleeper his best friend was (and he wasn’t even drunk!). Chan only had to haul him with one big—yet _careful,_ _please don’t hurt him—_ pull and Seungmin went from sitting inside the car to sitting on the pavement.

“I’ll take it from here,” Minho held a palm up to block Chan’s hand from slinging Seungmin’s arm onto his shoulders.

“You sure?” Chan eyed him skeptically. Minho couldn’t blame him, he was going to get one of the security men to help him carry Seungmin to their unit anyway. This wasn’t even their first time doing it.

“Yeah, I don’t want to keep you.” _Oh, but I do._

“If you insist.”

“Thanks again, Chan. You’ve done a lot for me tonight,” Minho said as he gestured towards Seungmin. “Take care on your way home.”

“Will do. Be safe, Minho,” Chan said before turning away to walk back to his car, the phantom of his tight-lipped smile barely leaving a trace in the empty air where he once stood. Minho watched as the taillights disappeared down the shadowed street.

“It was lovely meeting you.”

Minho shut the door to Seungmin’s room, slowly pulling the knob until the lock clicked. They had just finished talking about what happened earlier; Seungmin told Felix he liked him and Felix also confessed that he’d had a crush on Seungmin ever since their last team building day when they were paired up for one of the events. However, the moment didn’t last long, as Seungmin did something stupid to ruin it (his words, not Minho’s).

“I don’t know what I was thinking back there, Min. I kissed him. _I fucking kissed him._ And then I ran.” Seungmin’s words were muffled from his face being planted on the bed.

Minho suppressed a laugh, “Baby, that was dumb.”

Seungmin lifted his head to scowl at him. “You think I don’t realize that?” he wailed.

“What do you want to do then?” Minho asked, “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know! Slit my throat or something!”

Minho rolled his eyes at this and crawled on the bed to lay on top of Seungmin’s body. His best friend had groaned loudly but clung on to Minho, nonetheless. “Go to sleep, Seungminnie. I’ll help you figure things out tomorrow,” Minho offered. He didn’t need to prod as Seungmin had gotten comfortable with the added heat and was already still under him.

Minho crept back to his own room and fell asleep replaying the events that transpired that night in his head.

Minho had set aside his daily routine in anticipation for the late nights and even later mornings during the holidays—the only season when he would have the time to do whatever he wanted. Yet as the festivities were coming to an end, he would now have to put up the brand new calendar behind the door, check his scheduler, and finally set his alarms for Monday. _Monday,_ even saying it made him shudder. It didn’t help that he and Seungmin had slept in on the new year, missing half of the day.

Three days later, after exhausting the last few moments of freedom, he’s back at work with an office bigger than his own room at their apartment. Since then, the next few weeks involved Minho reading manuscripts of last year’s backlogs, attending dozens of meetings, and introducing himself over and over to the new staff. Before he knew it, another month had already passed.

It was safe to say that Minho found February distasteful. And not just because of the upcoming holiday; Minho could celebrate that on his own, thank you. He has a lot of love he’d saved for himself—it’s what years of being single did to him. February was also the time where he’d be bombarded with multiple articles to edit as everyone else was at an all-time high, inspired by romance or whatever acid they were on. It was all a state of mind for Minho, a chemical reaction in the brain. He couldn’t be bothered with feelings when his job was as needy and demanding as a boyfriend.

But when his co-workers started discussing the usual topics they would be writing for this month’s issue of their magazine, why did Chan’s face suddenly pop up in his head like it was waiting for the right moment to enter his consciousness?

Minho could vaguely recall the last time he even thought of Chan. It was a couple of weeks ago; he had a dream of the night they met. Everything else was a hazy background, framing Chan in a vignette, yet with the details of his features still faint. Minho knew a lot happened in his dream, but he could only remember blurry images when he woke up. That was enough to push the memory far back into the deepest crevices of his brain. He didn’t need to be reminded of the what ifs and could have beens.

As his boss’ closing spiel came to an end, Minho gathered his things and leftover paperwork and went down to clock out. He was drained. Meetings in general were exhausting, but department meetings with all the staff and bosses were borderline deadly—he felt as if they were sucking the soul out of him. He should get really get paid more for his efforts in keeping up with this circus. He wanted this job because he loved _to write—_ in peace, if he may add.

“Boy, do I have news for you!” Seungmin called out from the living room, startling Minho and causing him to lose focus. He had too many tabs open, too many files spread out in front of him. It was a bad habit and something that shouldn’t be considered efficient, but it worked.

“Asshat! I was reading something! Now I can’t remember what I was going to comment,” Minho booed.

“This concerns you,” Seungmin deadpans.

“Okay,” Minho draws out, “should I be scared?”

“Yes, very much.”

“What’s it about?”

“Bang Chan.”

“Chan?” Minho asked, stunned.

“Fucking best friend you are,” Seungmin crossed his arms and shot him an accusing look. “I had to find out everything from my boss. _My boss,_ Lee Minho.” He was now taking awfully big strides towards Minho.

“What? What did I do!” Minho was close to yelling at him already.

“You had a fling with my boss!” Seungmin shouted gleefully.

“I didn’t have a thing with your boss!” Minho’s mouth gaped, “he’s old and ugly, not to mention senile. Why the fuck would I ever want to date him?”

“Okay, so remember the event I dragged you to attend with me?” Seungmin asked, to which Minho scoffed loudly. Of course he did. “Don’t give me that look,” Seungmin warned, “It was actually a surprise event for his retirement. The same night, they introduced the new guy. I wasn’t there to see it, though. As you know, I had a thing going on with Felix then.”

“And this is relevant because?” Minho was genuinely puzzled.

“For a smart guy, your lack of intuition is bothering.” Before Minho could even ask what he meant, there was a sharp knock on the door. “Get it,” Seungmin ordered.

“Did you order take out? I told you not to, I cooked dinner!”

“Just get it, Min!”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Minho walked towards the living room to see who was knocking.

It was Chan. Chan was at the door. _Chan was at the fucking door!_ Minho shut it in his face in panic. He turns to Seungmin who was covering his mouth with one hand. “Wh-why is he here?”

“Ask him! And blink, goddamn it! Your crazy eyes aren’t good for a second impression!”

Minho took a deep breath and rehearsed a string of apologies he’d tell Chan once he opens the door again. He turns the knob, fully expecting a blank space where the man should’ve been, but he was still there—with a smile on his face that made Minho feel like he was coming home.

“Hey,” Chan greeted him shyly, dimples peeking out of his cheeks. _Why does he have to be so adorable and irresistible at the same time?_

“Hey yourself,” Minho smiled.

“I hope I’m not too late.”

“Late? For what?”

Chan crouched to pick up a full basket of chocolates and a large bouquet. “Happy Valentine’s day, Minho. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Minho peered at the basket and its contents. “No way. You got all of my favorite things! How’d you know!”

Chan grinned sheepishly, “Seungmin told me. At first I thought you were dating, but then he asked me one time if I was the one who brought you guys home and we talked about the incident, and… well, here we are.”

Minho turned around to look for his best friend, but he was gone. Probably holed up in his room texting Felix. He faced Chan once again and saw that his eyebrows were creased anxiously. Minho almost forgot how endearing it was.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But I can’t just accept this!”

“I just remembered, I never did get to take you out that night,” Chan paused. “Accept my invitation for a date then, and let’s start over.”

“Deal,” Minho answered and reached out his hand for Chan to shake.

“Go get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs,” Chan said, giving Minho a peck on the cheek. Minho was left staring as Chan’s figure disappeared down the hall, fingers lingering at the place where Chan’s lips were once pressed against. He snaps out of it after a couple of moments. He has a date to get ready for, and this time, he won’t be holding anything back.


End file.
